


Summertime

by dreamplaza



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamplaza/pseuds/dreamplaza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungjong doesn’t like silences in between conversations. One day he will understand his compulsive need to fill up the gaps, but he’s not betting on it. In which Sungjong moves from Gwangju to Seoul to chase a dream and finds himself dreaming to fight his waking nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summertime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for infinitebigbang. Thank you beta galmaegi and proof-reader mangafanxd for sticking with me as I wrote my very first long fic. Originally posted on livejournal.

  
Sungjong gets the news right before he leaves for Seoul, the day after his middle school graduation. Jihyun is a mother now, and she’d just delivered this morning at the local hospital.  
  
Word travels fast around his school.  
  
He’d been in the same class with her since first grade. She was quiet, unobtrusive, obedient. Intelligent. Her Korean essays were printed out for the entire class to read. Jihyun was popular in class, too; had plenty of admirers and friends alike. But she was also an early bloomer.  
  
She entered her first heat in the girl’s bathroom one evening, ten days before her fourteenth birthday. School was already over by then and most students were already on their way home, save for one Alpha boy.  
  
Jihyun missed several weeks of lessons, and her friends brought her homework for her. It was terrible, Sungjong knows. They had to knock loudly at her door and leave her work on the doorstep. Her Alpha hadn’t allowed anyone to come close to her for months after the bonding. Sungjong remembers all this very clearly because he brought her homework almost every day until she could come back to school. He didn’t need printed handouts from the teacher because Jihyun would hand her homework over if only he’d asked.  
  
First grade, Sungjong and Jihyun were tablemates.  
  
Second grade, Jihyun called Sungjong her best friend.  
  
After eighth grade, Sungjong didn’t see her very much at all. Sungjong saw her around school sometimes, frame curved around her Alpha, one hand pressed against her swelling belly.  
  
Months before graduation, Sungjong had turned from best friend to a complete stranger. When he’d told his mother about Jihyun’s pregnancy, she merely muttered under her breath, “God be with her.” When he’d asked what she meant, she had smiled wanly at him and told him how lucky he was to come from a long line of Betas.  
  
Right now, Sungjong has thirty minutes to catch the bus to Seoul. He leaves with Jihyun’s old mobile number in his phone.  
  
-  
  
Being street casted was easy, too easy, because Sungjong certainly didn’t expect training to be so gruelling. He’d heard stories, but nothing could compare to being right there, in the training room, trying and failing to catch up to the trainer’s instructions. The music stops, thankfully, and Sungjong glances at the clock. 11.15AM. Fifteen more minutes and for a moment, Sungjong just wants the practice to be over so he can sleep. But sleep isn’t important right now, when his moves are too fluid to look nice, and his voice lacks control. Sleep is a luxury he cannot afford if he wants to fill up the gaping holes in his abilities. Sungjong is the youngest trainee, but from the minute he entered the company, he was already behind. On some especially terrible days, Sungjong imagines packing his bags and moving back to Gwangju, before he remembers that there is no future for him there. Dropping out of school closes all doors but one.  
  
Five minutes left and the instructor is already wrapping up. Sungjong doesn’t know if he should feel relieved that he gets to go early or terrible because he still needs to fix a ton of mistakes. The twinge of urgency goes as quickly as it comes when Sunggyu comes over to hook an arm over the back of his neck.  
  
“Sungjong-ah, go eat with me?” Sunggyu is four years older than him, but the age gap feels much less than that. The first day they met, Sungjong made the grave mistake of flaunting his looks when Sunggyu complimented him, and Sunggyu gaped at him in shock. And then took him out for food. Sungjong learnt soon enough that Sunggyu warmed up to people really quickly.  
  
Sunggyu proceeds to very affectionately pinch his cheeks. Sungjong likes his face very much and he doubts that a debut will be in his favour if his cheeks get saggy. “So cute, aigoooo.” Then Sunggyu starts to shake Sungjong’s head from side to side and Sungjong’s patience only stretches this far.  
  
“Let’s go!” Sungjong wriggles out of Sunggyu’s grabby hands.  
  
“Sungjong-ah, wait for me!”  
  
Sungjong sighs in mock exasperation and continues walking. “We’re only going to have three hours of sleep if you keep at that pace.”  
  
“Yah!” Sunggyu grabs him around the middle. “Wait for your hyung, will you.”  
  
“But you’ve already caught up.”  
  
Sunggyu glares at him. “Let’s go eat, Sungjong-ah.”  
  
“So you said,” Sungjong mutters under his breath.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“I said, it’s really late.”  
  
Sunggyu scrutinises him for about two seconds.  
  
“Okay.” He draws out the first syllable, one eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Do you want ddukbokki?”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
-  
  
Walking home, Sungjong thinks that he rather likes the silence between them. He usually struggles with gaps between conversations, but Sunggyu is comfortable, like a blanket on a chilly evening or a warm hand on his back in the heat of the dance studio. Sungjong feels close to him already.  
  
He comes to his senses after a few moments. They look towards the same goal but want to attain it through different means; they share the same blinding dream of the future, but it is not the same. Sungjong finds that perhaps even with Sunggyu, he is falling behind. He thinks about how to mould himself, how to create someone who will debut with Sunggyu. Because Sunggyu will debut. He’s heard rumors of a five-member group. Sungjong is sure about many things in his life, but this is one thing that he believes in most strongly.  
  
In his bedroll later, Sungjong covers his face with his hand so Sunggyu won’t see his face crumpling. Sunggyu is asleep, breath gusting in and out, the air tickling against Sungjong’s face. Sungjong wonders if he can fall asleep like this, with a single, unwavering thought that is repeated like a mantra every day instead of the swarm of conflicting emotions. But maybe it’s easy for Sunggyu, because Sunggyu is his only friend, but he is not Sunggyu’s. All Sungjong has is Sunggyu and Gwangju.  
  
On some nights like this, when the loneliness is too overwhelming, Sungjong wishes he’d had remained at home. But right now he is here, and with Sunggyu as the only person whom he knows and relies on. It’s not exactly a place he wants to be in, but a place he has to be right now.  
  
He wants things to change, but he wants things between them to stay the same. It’s a tall order, Sungjong knows.  
  
-  
  
He calls back home occasionally to talk to his mother. Some days, his father and his brother comes to the phone and Sungjong misses them so much that he shakes from the longing. Things are better when he hangs up; the swell of emotions subsides for a while, and he goes to sleep worn out but resolute again in his goal.  
  
Sungjong only asks for Jihyun once or twice. He wants to ask more often, but it’s best not to sound too nosy. Alphas can get terribly possessive.  
  
His mother had told him, voice hushed, how she had spoken to Jihyun’s mother. Jihyun wasn’t too happy to be with child so quickly, but her Alpha had been insistent.  
  
“She doesn’t attend school anymore,” Sungjong’s mother said bitterly into the receiver.  
  
“Doesn’t she have any say in this?” Sungjong feels his own voice shake with anger. Jihyun wanted to study geography in Seoul University; she’d told him herself, years ago.  
  
Sungjong’s mother sighs.  
  
“I don’t know. Jihyun’s mother doesn’t have a lot of say about this, since she’s an Ome--”  
  
“Yeah, Omega. I know.”  
  
She sighs again, but only now does Sungjong register that it’s as if his mother is speaking to a child who doesn’t understand what he’s talking about. He just wants to hang up and try to sleep.  
  
“I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,  _umma_.”  
  
“Take care of yourself, Sungjong-ah.”  
  
-  
  
Two months into his training, the CEO brings in a boy from Busan to the dorms.  
  
“This is Lee Howon, the new trainee I’ve been talking about. He’ll be living here from now on. I hope you,” and here the CEO looks at Sunggyu and Sungjong in turn, “will treat him well.”  
  
Sungjong stands up to greet the newcomer.  
  
The newcomer puts Sungjong in a difficult position. Lee Howon quickly establishes himself as the best dancer the company has. He can sing too, and picks up rap so easily Sungjong sometimes feels the frustration bubbling up to his throat after shared practice sessions. Lee Howon is everything Sungjong wants to be and more. Sungjong absolutely loathes him. Probably an Alpha too, Sungjong thinks as he watches the way Lee Howon’s shirt stick to his defined chest as he dances.  
  
Sunggyu is absolutely drawn to him.  
  
Sunggyu asks Howon to tag along with them when they go out for snacks after practice, and what makes it even more infuriating is that he actually asks Sungjong if Howon can come. As if he could say no.  
  
So Sungjong walks one step behind the two of them on the narrow pavement that’s only wide enough for two. He takes out his phone and replies some of the trainees from the other companies -- friend-acquaintances who message him details about the latest gossip and how disgusting their lunches were -- and then nothing. There’s nothing to distract him from the fact that Sunggyu is chatting animatedly with Howon in front. Sungjong hardly cares about what they’re talking about when the familiar ache of loneliness settles in the pit of his belly, poisonous fumes of the emotion unfurling around his brain and almost intoxicating him. For a brief second, he contemplates squeezing past them to walk in front, anything,  _anything_  not to feel like he’s being left behind.  
  
-  
  
“Sungjong, you’re not sharp enough,” the instructor barks out from the front of the room, “you’re messing up the entire choreography!”  
  
Sungjong stops mid-spin as he feels his face flush in shame. All eyes are on him, and he can feel more than one set that’s filled with disdain.  _Just your average Beta,_  he sometimes hear in bathrooms,  _can’t do anything well._  
  
 _Maybe even an Omega,_  they chortle,  _who knows?_  
  
He wraps his hand deliberately into a fist so that he can feel the sting of fingernails against the soft flesh of his palm. His hands are soft, like a girl’s, his mother had remarked. He digs the fingernails in harder and wishes he could draw blood.  
  
He bows low, muttering, “I’m sorry, I’ll work harder.”  
  
What else can he do, besides working hard?  
  
-  
  
Howon sits opposite Sunggyu in the restaurant, and they have their heads huddled together, discussing the latest girl group that has caught their eye.  
  
The ache is there again, resting in Sungjong’s stomach, pressing against his insides, filling him up to his throat until he’s bloated. He just wants to leave.  
  
“I’m”-- he stands up, feeling their surprised gazes on him-- “going to practice more. Have fun,” he adds blandly and walks out of the shop without waiting for a reply.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong stays back after every practice, until it’s one, two in the morning. He dances until his lungs feel like bursting, then he practices some more. But once his concentration slips, his moves become more fluid than sharp, steps more languid than powerful. 2AM and Sungjong is nowhere near done, and then a thought hits him hard. He will never be  _done_ , for years and years after debut -- if he does debut -- after his career goes to shit, after marriage and children and --  
  
He will never be done,  _never never never_  --  
  
Sungjong drops to the ground with a muffled thump, mind reeling and tears threatening to spill over.  
  
He curls in on himself and his thoughts and the clock ticks above him, mechanical and unfeeling. It’s almost cruel; Sungjong needs to scrimp on minutes and seconds but right now he can’t bring himself to get up. Each tick of the clock just makes his gut clench with urgency but he can’t move. All the fight’s evaporated out of his body, leaving him tired and angry against the cold wooden floor.  
  
He lies there for what feels like at least an hour, tears dripping onto the floor and fingernails scratching against the floor. The wood caves beneath his fingernails. Sungjong presses harder. Just a minute more, and he’ll get up. Practice. Just one more minute.  
  
The door to the practice room bangs open.  
  
Sungjong whirls around, and positively burns in shame. It’s Howon and Sungjong wants to die. Howon just stands there, looking at him.  
  
Sungjong grabs his bag, and with one hand against his face, bolts out of the room.  
  
-  
  
“Sungjong-ah,” Sunggyu says and wraps an arm around his shoulders, shaking him gently, “when did you get so hardworking, hm? Howon tells me he saw you in the practice room in the dead of the night.”  
  
Sungjong flinches and his eyes whips up to stare at Howon. If he told Sunggyu about his breakdown--  
  
Howon meets his gaze evenly.  
  
“I’ve been working hard this whole time, hyung, you just don’t see it,” Sungjong replies distractedly.  
  
He waits for Sunggyu to frown, or ask him what’s wrong, but Sunggyu just thumps him on the back in encouragement and moves on to talk about the female JYP trainee he’s been texting.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong had met Jihyun once between the time she was bonded and when he left. Standing next to her as she steeled herself for childbirth, Sungjong dared not touch her. Jihyun merely gazed at him, her expression resigned. The AC rattled above them, but the room was stifling hot, the air syrupy and thick, not necessarily sweet.  
  
“I’m glad you decided to go.” Her pretty mouth twisted into a small grimace. “It’s stifling here, isn’t it.”  
  
Sungjong had no words of consolation then. He struggled before settling for, “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”  
  
“I hope I’ll see you on TV,” Jihyun said wistfully.  
  
“Thank you.” His reply was almost automatic.  
  
The murmur of the television filled the space between them, and it made Sungjong shift in his seat. He didn’t like silences. He still doesn’t.  
  
“Sungjong-ah,” she sighed, her swollen belly heaving once with the motion, and Sungjong had hoped, for a moment, that she would suddenly jump up and hug him, talk to him the way she’d used to, cheerful and unabashed, but the moment never came.  
  
Jihyun paused, and then said, “I’ll see you soon,” with a soft exhale, like a promise hung out to dry and then lost in the passing breeze.  
  
Sungjong exhaled with her.  
  
The strongest sense of longing comes not from a slow separation. It comes from the abruptness with which Sungjong left Gwangju behind him. Sungjong does not feel the loss immediately. Like shedding a second skin, the change is almost painless, but he itches nonetheless. Like the feelings scratching against the inside of his ribcage, Sungjong is stuck in a limbo, unsure if he should wait for the itch to pass or cave and scratch it, go home. Here, he is stripped of what he used to know, laid bare for Seoul to come pick apart. And Sungjong feels like there’s not much left of him to wear down anymore.  
  
But still, he sings, dances, learns until his head pounds and he’s lost feeling in his limbs. Nothing is lost if there is nothing to lose.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong is alone in the practice room again. This time, he turns the volume all the way up so he can’t even think. Images of last night flit past his brain so quickly he barely has time to quash them before the feeling of despair swells in his throat. He spins to the music, and the image of his tears in the practice mirror surges forth so suddenly his throat clenches. Sungjong chokes, and it sounds like a muffled sob. He presses his fingernails into his fist. It’s not time to stop, not yet.  
  
He still remembers today’s dance practice clearly.  
  
Instructor Yong yelled at him again, and Sungjong had, in a fit of anger or desperation or just plain stupidity, gone up to Howon after practice and asked him if he could help him after class. Right after the request had come out of Sungjong’s mouth, he wished he could swallow everything back.  
  
Howon merely nodded. “I’ll meet you in room 203 at eight?”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Sungjong looks at the clock. 7.59PM. The door opens.  _Huh._  He really turned up.  
  
-  
  
Howon is everything Sungjong expects. He stops the music every five seconds to correct Sungjong, and when the clock ticks to 12.30AM, Sungjong sees Howon nodding a little in the mirror.  
  
Sungjong ends the song with the finishing pose, and Howon kicks off from the wall.  
  
“I think you’re good for today,” he says as he scoops up his bag from the floor.  
  
Sungjong straightens and before he knows it, he’s let the pause between them stretch to the point of awkward. He scrambles to respond.  
  
“Thank you for your help, Howon-sshi.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  
Howon pauses at the door to look back at Sungjong, and for a moment their eyes meet. Howon looks like he wants to say something, and Sungjong remembers lying on the floor in his own sweat and looking up at Howon’s face, the feeling of despair wracking his body with helpless tears. He lowers his gaze to continue fishing for his phone in his bag.  
  
He waits for the door to swing shut before he looks up.  
  
-  
  
Sunggyu is his hyung, but he’s also a friend. Sungjong doesn’t even realise he’s swaying on his feet after practice before Sunggyu points it out.  
  
“Sungjong-ah.” Sunggyu pokes at his arms worriedly. “Come have supper with us?”  
  
Sungjong pauses. As much as he thinks of the extra practice he’s missing out on, he’s missed Sunggyu.  
  
“Hey.” Sunggyu smiles at him. “Let’s hang out for a little bit. It’s been a while.”  
  
“Yeah.” Sungjong is grateful that Sunggyu fills that gap in the conversation for him.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong is tired enough just so that his mind is a pleasant blank. Right now, he’s perfectly happy with sitting there and listening to Sunggyu and Howon talk.  
  
“And-- Sungjong, are you listening?”  
  
Sungjong hums so Sunggyu can continue.  
  
“We were just sitting right at this spot and you wouldn’t believe the nerve of this kid. He just walks over and points to us, calling us ‘beggars’. Is my fashion sense that bad, Sungjong-ah?”  
  
Sungjong pretends to stroke his chin thoughtfully.  
  
“The kid’s not wrong...”  
  
“Yah, come here you little--” Sunggyu scrambles up from the ground, hands outstretched.  
  
Sungjong ducks behind Howon instinctively, not caring if he’s weird or uncomfortable with him. Surviving Sunggyu’s wrath is the most important thing right now. He holds Howon’s shoulders and tilts them to block Sunggyu’s flailing limbs.  
  
“Stop that, hyung,” Howon snickers as he attempts to placate Sunggyu, “don’t bully your dongsaengs.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sungjong agrees behind Howon.  
  
Sunggyu tsks and plops his butt back onto the ground.  
  
“Be careful when you sleep tonight, Sungjong-ah,” Sunggyu threatens and tries to open his eyes as wide as they can go.  
  
“Don’t go straining your eyes now; there’s not even a difference from when you’re closing them,” Howon says. He grabs Sungjong and they scramble away from Sunggyu quickly.  
  
“Yah, you two! Come back here!” Sunggyu bellows from behind them.  
  
Sungjong doesn’t scream like a girl as they run. It’s a very manly yell. As manly as Howon’s, he’s pretty sure.  
  
-  
  
It’s pretty strange for Sungjong to watch Sunggyu and Howon work towards their debut for months and then be told he’d be joining them. Sungjong moves to a dorm large enough for five but that will house seven of them. Main vocal Woohyun moves into Sunggyu’s room so Sungjong and another trainee, Sungyeol, can move into Howon’s.  
  
Sungjong feels close to Sungyeol almost instantly. There’s just something about Sungyeol. He is loud and brazen and Sungjong feels at ease with him because there is never a lull in conversation. Sungyeol oscillates almost violently between being Captain Wildchild and deeply contemplative, pulling him along with him out of meaningful discussions into mere chit-chat so quickly Sungjong can’t help but want to be around him. At first, he’s mostly listening, but later he’s joining in, talking as much or more than Sungyeol when they chat.  
  
Sungyeol doesn’t have a lot of time for Sungjong, because his best friend Myungsoo is in the team too and the two of them are inseparable. Sometimes Sungjong feels like tagging along -- in the spirit of getting along better with his hyungs and all -- but the way Myungsoo angles his head towards Sungyeol’s is a clear sign that he doesn’t want their outings to be interrupted. Myungsoo likes Sungjong well enough, but Sungyeol is a different matter to him.  
  
Sungjong spends what little free time he has in the dorms without Sunggyu. The original leader left a few days before Sungjong and Sungyeol moved in, and Sunggyu is now the oldest. Leader and Alpha. Sunggyu has to meet people and take care of administrative duties on top of practice. Sitting down to have a chat with the new magnae certainly isn’t priority.  
  
Sunggyu’s changed, too. He’s harsh and blunt in his criticisms, and more than once that’s resulted in Woohyun going nose-to-nose with Sunggyu in a full-blown shouting match in the middle of the practice room. Sunggyu bosses them around in the dorms a little and no one complains except for Woohyun, who makes it very clear to Sunggyu that being an Alpha does not mean he is one step above the rest.  
  
One thing, Sungjong thinks as he tries to block out the sounds of Sunggyu yelling at Woohyun in the dorm, that makes Sunggyu so brilliant and so flawed is his pride. And especially as the leader and an Alpha, Sunggyu isn’t used to outright defiance like what Woohyun exhibits on a daily basis. The other Betas on the team, like Sungjong, keep their resentment to themselves. Years of submitting to Alphas do that to people. Right now, Sungjong is secretly glad that Woohyun is standing up for himself. Sunggyu is getting a teeny bit overbearing these days. Sungjong would have stepped up to help, but he is the youngest and he’s not sure how the other hyungs would react if he talked over them. So he takes toilet breaks and brushes past Woohyun in the corridor and comes back to Dongwoo trying to talk to Sunggyu. Sunggyu becomes more irritable, which is understandable because of the stress of their upcoming debut, but he constantly pushes Sungjong away when he tries to make small talk.  
  
After a while, Sungjong just stops trying.  
  
-  
  
Most times, Sungjong likes the way he looks, but today is one of those times that he  _hates_  it. He’s pretty and docile-looking, and for some reason that makes the other trainees in the company think he’s a really easy target. They jeer at him when he’s wandering around on his water break, so Sungjong takes to walking around with his earphones stuck to his ears, blasting Infinite’s newly recorded sounds. That’s his group’s name, and Sungjong has a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that he’s debuting. Somehow Infinite seems out of his reach even when he’s in it.  
  
Today, he has “Dashidorawa” on maximum volume as he passes the other trainees in the corridor. Everything’s fine; he keeps his head down and sips his water unobtrusively, until one trainee rips his earpiece out and whispers into his ear, “You won’t last five months in that group, little girl--”  
  
And despite what his manager has said about violence in public places Sungjong really wants to take a swing at this bitter asshole. He has his fist clenched and raised halfway before Howon jostles him roughly from behind.  
  
“Let’s just go, Sungjong-ah.”  
  
“Getting your boyfriend to help you now?” the trainee taunts, his beady eyes narrowed into a disgusting leer, and Sungjong takes a step back--  
  
Howon pulls him around the corner and Sungjong feels a spike of irrational anger at him.  
  
“Why didn’t you let me hit him? He had it coming,” he grits out, pushing at the arm on his shoulder.  
  
But Howon just shakes his head, hand still firm on Sungjong’s bicep. “Let’s go to the rooftop.”  
  
Sungjong follows him while his insides churn with the injustice of the situation. He wants, so much, to just turn around and find that trainee, teach him that he isn’t as docile as he seems, but his debut is so close and he’s not even part of the original five so if he fucks up now--  
  
The door to the rooftop closes behind him with a loud slam.  
  
“It’s windy today, isn’t it.” Howon squints at the sky.  
  
Sungjong doesn’t bother with a reply.  
  
“Sometimes,” Howon says and turns to look at Sungjong, “it’s best not to do anything. I know--” he holds up a hand when Sungjong open his mouth to interrupt-- “it’s hard to stay still but that’s just how things work.”  
  
Howon’s mouth quirks into a small, sad smile, and as much as Sungjong wants to disagree, the truth is staring at him right in the face.  
  
“It’s better to forget it and focus on something more worth your time. It makes you feel better,” Howon says softly.  
  
“Things don’t change if I feel better.”  
  
“They do.”  
  
“Give me an example,” Sungjong says stubbornly.  
  
Howon pauses for a second.  
  
“Hyukjun-hyung left because he couldn’t stand the thought of his parents’ disapproval anymore, while you stayed in the company even after you didn’t make the cut, even after your mother asked you to go home.  
  
“Even if determination doesn’t always create happiness, it changes everything, you see,” Howon says, and leans against the railing to look at the sky streaked pink by the dying rays of the sun. The wind whistles around them, ruffling their hair as they stand side-by-side.  
  
Sungjong studies Howon’s face bathed in gold, and wonders.  
  
-  
  
"Gather 'round." Instructor Yong waves the seven of them over backstage on M!Countdown, and stares at them expectantly as they huddle around him.  
  
"You've worked hard for this to happen. You've stayed up for an entire week so you can be perfect. So I don't expect anything less. Howon-sshi, Dongwoo-sshi, project your voices. Sunggyu-sshi, Woohyun-sshi, remember to find the cameras. Myung--I mean L-sshi, bend a little more like I've showed you. Sungyeol-sshi,  _knees_. Sungjong-sshi, be focused and be sharp in your movements--" he glances to the stage coordinator tapping insistently on his shoulder. "You guys have two minutes. Okay everyone put your hands here." He stretches his hand out, palm down.  
  
Everyone hurries to comply. Two minutes is barely a second.  
  
"Infinite, hwaiting!" Sungjong yells with the rest of his team, and is promptly shooed onstage.  
  
"Good luck, kiddos," Instructor Yong says behind them, thumping Sungjong on the back once, before Sungjong walks away from predebut, and walks into his dream.  
  
-  
  
Debut is the result of months of hard work, but it’s only when Sungjong’s standing on the stage mid-song that the realisation sinks in. He has to bite his lips so he won’t grin. There’re at least ten cameras trained on the stage and he doesn’t know which one is pointing in his direction --  _later, later,_  he tells himself over the roaring in his ears, and slides back into position.  
  
-  
  
It’s perfect. Their debut stage is completely perfect, but the atmosphere afterwards is anything but. The post-performance high has faded away and it leaves Sungjong exhausted and feeling alone in his little corner. Sunggyu is still pissed at Woohyun and they situate themselves at two corners of the dressing room, metaphorical rainclouds over their heads and all. Sungjong wants to go up to Sunggyu, ask about how he did, ask if Sunggyu’s okay, but Sunggyu’s frown just deepens when anyone other than their managers or the coordi noonas approaches him. Sungyeol is with Myungsoo, as usual, and Sungjong doesn’t think he can muster the strength to go up to them today. Howon is off somewhere with the manager and Dongwoo is trying to talk to Woohyun, which must not be working because Woohyun is just shaking his head at whatever Dongwoo says.  
  
So Sungjong sits on the couch, fiddling with his handphone strap every now and then while he waits for the rest of the staff to pack up. He’s already called his parents and it fills Sungjong with so much warmth at the pride in their voices, but right now he’s feeling more alone than ever in the room overcrowded with people.  
  
Howon plops next to him on the couch with a sigh.  
  
Sungjong turns to him, desperate to ask him -- was I okay? Did I do well for all of us? But he doesn’t need to, because Howon is already speaking, asking him about his phone call and Sungjong manages to force those overflowing words back down his throat and his heart to stop clenching in short, angry bursts so he can give a coherent reply.  
  
“You did well today,” Howon says. Sungjong isn’t sure if Howon’s just trying to reassure him, but oddly enough, his mind clears and all he can think of is the way Howon looks at him, content and sleepy.  
  
For now, it is enough.  
  
-  
  
Dorm life has been pretty calm for one with an Omega. Myungsoo had his first heat a few months after their debut, and apparently it was a godsend that he was in a secluded corner with Sungyeol at the time.  
  
That’s what the other members think, anyway. Sungjong kept a close eye on them and called his mother the night when Myungsoo was bonded. For months, Sungjong watches Myungsoo carefully, picking out and and analysing every single expression that flits across his face.  
  
As the days ended in the car or in his bunk, he would envision Jihyun in Myungsoo’s place, so wrapped up in her Alpha that no one could tell if she couldn’t let go of of him, or just wouldn’t.  
  
-  
  
It’s another day in the practice room and Sungjong wants to let himself break down and just yell at Sunggyu. He’s tired and sweaty and hungry, but Sunggyu refuses to let them take a break and Sungjong thinks he’ll vomit if he hears “Dashidorawa” through the speakers one more time.  
  
“Sungjong-ah, stop slacking, “ Sunggyu yells from the other side of the room.  
  
He stops the music and goes over to Sungjong.  
  
“You’re not doing this correctly; when you come up”-- he pushes Sungjong’s torso to the right-- “you don’t stick your chest out so much.  
  
“Again.”  
  
Sungjong repeats the moves up till that point.  
  
“No no no. “ Sunggyu is shaking his head. “That’s not right either.”  
  
Sungjong wants to stop dancing and just go back to his dorm because it’s fucking embarrassing. All his hyungs are staring at him as he struggles with the simplest moves and the memories of trainees taunting him swim to the forefront of his mind.  
  
“Hyung,” Howon says, squeezing in between them, “let me help him.”  
  
Sunggyu runs a frustrated hand over his face.  
  
“Yeah, okay. I’ll leave you to it.”  
  
-  
  
Half an hour later, Howon pulls Sungjong to the side so the rest can continue practicing.  
  
“Okay, here”-- Howon nudges Sungjong’s right foot with his own-- “you have to place it outwards, and”-- a hand on the inside of his knee--“bend a little more.”  
  
Sungjong looks up to face the mirror and realises that Howon is so close behind him. He feels his hyung’s soft breaths against his shoulder, and Sungjong wonders almost dazedly what would happen if he pressed himself against Howon’s chest by just shifting behind by an inch. He twists his head back --  
  
Howon is already turning away from him, pressing play on his phone.  
  
-  
  
Muffled shouts filter into Sungjong’s room and he immediately scrambles out of his bed to go to the living room--  
  
Where Dongwoo has Howon shoved up the wall by the throat and is yelling in his face.  
  
“Say that again. I fucking dare you to say that again, you shit--” Sunggyu grabs Dongwoo by the middle and hauls him off Howon, elbowing and shouting in a mess of limbs and Sungjong is just too stunned to move from his spot.  
  
Howon slides to the ground, choking and rubbing his throat and mouth, and when his hand falls to his side, Sungjong sees red splotches on his fingers. Sungjong grabs tissues from the kitchen and hands them over to him.  
  
“You don’t know her so stay out of our business,” Dongwoo yells from the floor, his face pink in anger. Woohyun comes over to help Sunggyu hold him down.  
  
“You don’t know her either so don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Howon snaps back, and dabs at his bruised lip tenderly. He bumps his shoulder into Sungjong’s harshly in his haste to get to the bathroom. The door slams behind him and rattles on its frame.  
  
“Fucker,” Dongwoo mutters to the closed bathroom door. “Get off me,” he says to Sunggyu and Woohyun on top of him. Sunggyu pulls Woohyun to sit on the floor, heads bend towards Dongwoo as he sits up too.  
  
“Dongwoo-yah,” Sunggyu begins.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Dongwoo shrugs off Woohyun’s hand and storms to his room.  
  
Sungjong goes back to his room, not knowing what to do.  
  
-  
  
Howon comes in a while later, face wet and pink, as though he tried to scrub it raw. The corner of his mouth is still oozing blood, one bead of red against the pink flesh. Sungjong plucks a tissue from the nightstand and hands it to him. Howon takes it with a small murmur of thanks.  
  
“I don’t understand. If she’s making him so upset, why is he still clinging on?” Howon plops down next to Sungjong on the bed spread.  
  
The AC whirs above them, filling the space in conversation where Sungjong doesn’t want to. The reply Sungjong wants to give isn’t what Howon wants to hear. But Sungjong thinks he needs to hear this. Sungjong thinks this is necessary. He will do it for Dongwoo, and all the other people Howon might hurt in the future.  
  
“Maybe because despite all she’s done to him, he still wants another chance?”  
  
Howon shakes his head. “Doesn’t seem like she’d appreciate that.”  
  
“But this is something Dongwoo wants for himself, don’t you see? He’s heartbroken, but he chooses to forget that and try again.”  
  
“Even so--”  
  
“Even so,” Sungjong interrupts, “you don’t need to be blunt with him. Dongwoo doesn’t need that.”  
  
Howon whips his head around to stare at Sungjong so fast their heads almost knock together. He just stares at Sungjong with a strange expression, as if he doesn’t know if he should praise Sungjong or protest stubbornly. Eventually, after several fidgety seconds, Howon’s mouth relaxes into a smile.  
  
“How did you grow up so quickly, magnae?” he teases.  
  
Sungjong can barely conceal his eye roll.  _Now_  he deserves some snark.  
  
“Maybe because you haven’t grown at all?” And Sungjong scrambles out of the bed and into the living room before he can hear Howon’s sarcastic retort.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Sungjong hollers, breezing past Sunggyu and Woohyun. They’re still sitting on the floor, but they’re talking in muted voices with their heads so close the brown strands of Sunggyu’s hair mixes with Woohyun’s darker shade.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong wakes up to an urge to pee.  
  
He glances at his phone and groans. 4AM and his bladder just can’t wait. He rolls out of his bunk softly so Howon won't wake and --  
  
Howon isn't asleep.  
  
He jerks a little when he sees Sungjong and Sungjong freezes. They peer at each other through the rungs of the ladder, and Sungjong debates whether to speak or not.  
  
“Hyung, why’re you still up? It’s 4AM.”  
  
The inside of his mouth feels like cotton.  
  
“Ah.” Howon reaches over to unlock his phone, and the bright light illuminates the entire room. “It is, isn’t it.”  
  
The conversation should have ended right there. But Sungjong wants to ask -- maybe because it’s in the middle of the night, maybe it’s seeing Howon tuck something hastily under his pillow when he saw Sungjong --  
  
“What’re you doing up so early?”  
  
Howon shuffles around in his blanket and lies down. The fading light from his phone screen illuminates the furrow of Howon’s eyebrows.  
  
“Go to sleep, Sungjong-ah.”  
  
“Is something bothering you, Howon-hyung?”  
  
Howon sighs, a loud sound in the quietness of the dorm.  
  
"My ex bonded a few days ago."  
  
"Oh." Sungjong doesn't know what to do. Somehow saying 'I'm sorry' isn't an appropriate response. Sungjong doesn't even know how Howon feels about his ex-girlfriend.  
  
"She thought that she should tell me."  
  
"Were you thinking about her?"  
  
Howon hums contemplatively. "And other things."  
  
"Hyung, are you..."  
  
Sungjong really thinks it's the lack of sleep that's making him say such strange things.  
  
Luckily, it's the same for Howon.  
  
"Alpha."  
  
Sungjong exhales carefully, waiting for Howon to continue.  
  
"If I hadn't left her, we might have been something else now. I don't miss her," Howon pauses, as if carefully contemplating his words. "Well, I do. But if I had stayed I might have been the one to bond her. I might have stayed in Busan.  
  
“I was thinking about the life I might have had.”  
  
“Then I’m glad you came to Seoul,” Sungjong blurts out, and almost recoils at how selfish he sounds.  
  
But from the dim lighting coming from the home screen, he sees Howon’s mouth curl upwards into a gentle smile.  
  
And he answers, “I’m glad, too.”  
  
-  
  
Sungjong wakes up about one hour later tired out of his mind.  
  
Across from him, Myungsoo is face-down in his rice bowl.  
  
“Gimme ten more minutes, Sung--”  
  
A loud snore.  
  
“You guys have five minutes.” The manager pokes his head into the kitchen.  
  
Sungyeol gusts out a long-suffering sigh, and then in a sudden act of brutality, whacks Myungsoo’s head with his chopsticks.  
  
-  
  
There are pieces of rice still stuck to Myungsoo’s face, Sungjong observes with sick fascination. The car jostles a little, and a piece of rice falls onto Myungsoo’s lap. Sungyeol turns to wipe his face with a tissue while Myungsoo sleeps on, oblivious.  
  
Sungjong instinctively turns away, unsure of what to think. On his side, Howon is sleeping with his head tilted slightly towards Sungjong. He watches as one, two bumps on the road make Howon’s head shift closer to Sungjong’s shoulder.  
  
One more bump and his hair grazes Sungjong’s sweater.  
  
It must be uncomfortable for his neck to stay like that, Sungjong thinks. So he slides his shoulder underneath Howon’s cheek and sits as still as he can when Howon nudges closer.  
  
He watches their thighs bump together for the entire ride, and does not sleep a wink.  
  
-  
  
“Here, you have to hunch your back a little, like this.” Howon places one hand against Sungjong’s back, and the other against his abdomen.  
  
“Like this?”  
  
Sungjong looks into the mirror to meet Howon’s eyes. They stay in their positions for maybe a moment, just staring at each other. Howon slides his hand along Sungjong’s waist ever so slowly to rest at his hip. Sungjong feels a thumb brush against the bone. Then Howon is already stepping away, nodding.  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
-  
  
“Sungjong-ah.”  
  
Sungjong hums in reply, his eyes still focused on the text to Seungyeon. She's been glued to her computer screen since her recent breakup and he's been trying to get her to go out and meet new boys. It's not really working.  
  
“What’s this?” Howon prods at Sungjong’s phone. “Girlfriend?”  
  
Sungjong snatches his phone away before Howon can see what’s on the screen. “More like a friend who can’t get over her ex.”  
  
Howon hazards a guess. “Soojung?”  
  
Sungjong swats at him lightly. "If you're going to list any more names I'm just going to ignore you."  
  
"Nicole? Bora?" Howon teases and puts his face even closer to Sungjong’s.  
  
"How did you even know they've just broken up with their boyfriends, hyung?" Sungjong puts one hand against Howon's chest and pushes. And tries not to turn red at how firm it is under his fingers.  
  
"You're not the only who knows about the latest celebrity gossip, Sungjong-ah."  
  
“You’re so nosy,” Sungjong says affectionately. They’re so close he can see the flecks of brown in Howon’s irises.  
  
And then Howon just pecks him on the cheek.  
  
Sungjong jumps a little at the contact, and turns to look at him. He looks just as surprised.  
  
"Um. Oh god, I'm so sorry, Sungjong-ah."  
  
Sungjong wants, so much to just lean over and kiss Howon on the mouth, but he's not sure if Howon really means that or not. He doesn't want to be wrong.  
  
"It's okay, hyung." Sungjong tries to force a smile on his face, but it might have been more like a grimace for how Howon's face falls.  
  
Howon turns his head away awkwardly and Sungjong wants to grab him but he can't he can't and he just can't do anything but stare at the back of Howon's head and wait for the ache in his chest to subside.

-

On the car ride home, Sungjong wakes up to his head against Howon’s chest and Howon’s hand brushing against his.  
  
He stays still, enjoying the touch, the rough palm against his wrist, and then shifts his head to rest on Howon’s shoulder.  
  
The hand stops, moves away and Sungjong panics a little and pushes his hand towards the warmth, chasing after it. He grabs it, and he hears Howon's breath hitch.  
  
He bites his lip, takes a deep breath.  
  
Laces their hands together.  
  
A moment suspended in the humid air of the car and --  
  
Then Howon's thumb strokes his hand, a shaking movement to match his shuddery exhale of breath.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong enters his room to see Howon pressing a pillow to his lips as the trailer for the latest horror movie.  
  
The loudspeakers boom suddenly and Sungjong swears Howon’s soul’s left his body for a minute there.  
  
He tries to stifle his laughter and retreats to his bunk.  
  
“Sungjong-ah,” Howon calls, “let’s watch a movie!”  
  
“Sure, but this movie?” Sungjong peers skeptically at the purple pillow that’s dying of suffocation in Howon’s arms.  
  
Howon lets go of the pillow quickly. “I’m not scared of horror movies.”  
  
“Um.”  
  
“Let’s see.” Howon types quickly into the search bar. “There’s one showing at 12.20AM on Friday. We can go right after practice.”  
  
Sungjong just raises an eyebrow.  
  
“I’m not scared of horror movies,” Howon repeats and kicks his pillow away from his chair. It curls into itself at the corner in a sad bundle.  
  
“Sure, hyung.”  
  
-  
  
Howon is curled into his seat like an armadillo, one hand pressed against his face and the other gripping Sungjong’s hand so hard it’s starting to hurt.  
  
The girl on screen breaks her own jaw.  
  
Howon whimpers.  
  
Sungjong checks his phone. They’re only halfway into the movie.  
  
 _Dear god._  
  
-  
  
Sungjong carefully massages back the blood into his hand as he follows Howon out of the theatre.  
  
Ahead of him, Howon mumbles something under his breath.  
  
“What was that, hyung?”  
  
“Let’s not watch anything like that again.” Howon looks a little green under the dim lighting from the street lamps.  
  
“But hyung, you wanted to watch that--”  
  
“I thought we could be scared together and we can hug each other and then I wouldn’t be so embarrassing by--” Sungjong bursts out laughing at Howon’s sad expression. “Myself,” he finishes lamely.  
  
“Howon-hyung,” Sungjong almost yells in laughter, grabbing onto Howon’s arm and swaying them back and forth.  
  
“Hey, I didn’t know you liked horror shows, okay?” Howon’s face is flushing red and he punches the combination to their dorm a little harder than necessary. Sungjong wants to stop laughing but Howon’s bottom lip is jutting out in a pout and Sungjong feels the maniacal cackling bubble out of his throat before he can stop himself.  
  
“Stop laughing,” Howon mumbles and then proceeds to suffocate himself in his jacket. Sungjong coos internally and gives in.  
  
“Here’s your hug anyway.” Sungjong winds his arms around Howon’s shoulders.  
  
Howon’s hands come up to rest at Sungjong’s back.  
  
“Thanks.” His reply is muffled against the collar of Sungjong’s sweater.  
  
-  
  
Things are going well; Howon looks cheery enough as they shower and dress for bed.  
  
Then everything goes to shit when he checks his phone. Sungjong tries not to pry but he knows who sent the text simply by the way Howon’s shoulders slump in defeat.  
  
“Hyung,” Sungjong says carefully on his own bunk, unsure of how to continue his sentence.  
  
He doesn’t need to.  
  
“It’s my father. He still tells me to come back to Busan. Give this idol business up,” Howon utters into the dark, one bunk above Sungjong.  
  
Sungjong hears the audible sound of a painful swallow.  
  
“He tells me everything has an expiry date, and the industry can be so--” Howon stutters to a stop with a rattling breath. “I,” he starts, and falters.  
  
Sungjong takes a deep breath, and then climbs up into the bed above.  
  
Howon’s face is tear-free, but Sungjong curls his arms around Howon, pushing his hyung’s head into the crook of his neck. Howon grips his waist so hard Sungjong knows he’s going to bruise tomorrow, but he lets Howon slide a hand against his back, lets him breath unsteadily against his collarbones.  
  
And then Howon presses his lips once, twice against Sungjong’s neck and once more on his chin, his thumb stroking an arc across Sungjong’s cheek and Sungjong has to close his eyes from the  _want_  that courses through his veins.  
  
He waits for Howon’s breathing to even out.  
  
In the morning, Sungjong wakes to the familiar curl of fingers twining with his, and he opens his eyes to Howon looking down at their hands, and when their gazes meet, Sungjong swears he’ll remember the moment for years to come.  
  
Sunggyu finds them curled into each other on the top bunk, and wisely does not say anything.  
  
-  
  
  
When Howon talks about his father, his eyes sometimes glimmer with the reflection of lights outside their window. Sungjong wants to reach up and rub his thumb against his cheek, just to check for moisture. But Howon might not appreciate the gesture, because he’s baring himself to Sungjong and Sungjong doesn’t want to ruin the moment.  
  
He remembers trying not to blink, so he can stretch the minutes before his eyelids feel too heavy for him to keep open.  
  
Sungjong knows how time can be calculated by beats in the music, how seconds can be elongated to minutes on a dazzling stage, but he will want to remember how time can be counted by the steady beating of a heart next to him, while the clock ticks to 4AM beside him.  
  
-  
  
A week later, Seoul’s weather has climbed to unbearable heights. Sungjong lolls around on the couch in the dorm's living room with his hyungs and the AC on full-blast, and tries to ignore the buckets of sweat still pouring down his back.  
  
Sungjong thinks he might be a little ill; something itches in his lower belly. He shifts around, trying to get comfortable, but the itch doesn't subside. He huffs a little in annoyance, and then realises how the hum of the television is the only sound in the room.  
  
Sungjong snaps his head up to see all of his six hyungs turned towards him in a way that's almost scary. Myungsoo's head bobs up and down delicately as he sniffs the air, but he does not break his gaze from Sungjong's face.  
  
The room is so still that Sungjong sits frozen, unsure of what to do.  
  
Then Sunggyu takes one step towards him and the stillness is broken.  
  
Before Sunggyu can reach him however, an arm winds around his middle and he's hauled to his room before he can even fight the person.  
  
Howon, identifiable by his purple sleep shirt, tosses Sungjong like a rag doll onto his own bed before stepping out and shutting the door behind him. At first, Sungjong feels rather indignant that someone could lift him up so easily, but then it turns into a spike of arousal at the fact that Howon could manhandle him so easily. It was hot, almost.  
  
Sungjong can hear voices outside, a garbled cacophony of angry voices and fading footsteps. He can hear Woohyun's yell of "You're not gonna chase us out just to get him to yourself aren't you," and a soft murmur that must have been Howon-hyung's reply.  
  
The feeling in his abdomen is increasing in intensity, and he absently rubs his belly. It feels good, and it feels natural to just slide his hand down further into his boxers to palm at his dick. And that feels even better. Sungjong lets out an involuntary moan as he rubs himself, head falling to the side in pleasure. He pants against the pillow, inhaling the scent of an Alpha, powerful and masculine. Sungjong salivates at the thought of having Howon around him,  _inside_  him.  
  
He takes a deep whiff at the sheets and moans at the lingering scent. His dick hardens some more, if that could even be possible, and he buries his nose, his lips into the pillow, flips his body around so he can press his tongue flat against the sheets. He imagines Howon lying beneath him, his hand on Sungjong’s cock and chest bared for Sunjong to lick. He wants to swirl his tongue against a nipple and suckle on it as he ruts against Howon, and oh, Sungjong’s body shudders in pleasure when his own finger grazes a vein on his dick.  
  
He slides his cock through the space between his thumb and forefinger, thumbing the vein that arouses him like nothing else, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough and Sungjong could cry from the frustration. No matter how quickly he flicks his wrist, orgasm just evades him. The skin behind his balls is twitching, and even though he felt uncomfortable sticking his fingers up his ass before, Sungjong is way too desperate now. He slides his fingers down his ass to press against the puckered skin, and the pleasure is so intense that he feels his back arch off the bed, his moan reverberating around the silent room. He imagines Howon-hyung pressing his cockhead against Sungjong’s hole and the wave of pleasure that comes with the thought has him sobbing against the heady smell of the sheets.  
  
The skin of his inner thighs is so warm, coated with slick dribbling out of his hole. He presses his forefinger into the cleft, and it’s so easy, to push two of his fingers to the knuckle. Again, the burning sensation in his abdomen makes Sungjong want to scream in frustration, and with a start, he realizes that small, desperate sounds are coming out of his mouth, begging for Howon-hyung, an Alpha, anyone to come and fill him up.  
  
Right then, a clatter sounds outside his room, and Sungjong stumbles off the bed in his haste to get to the door. He twists the door handle to find the door unable to budge, and an angry whine escapes his lips before he could help himself.  
  
He tries another time; he tries for a name, “Howon-hyung.”  
  
Sungjong is embarrassed that the name comes out in a moan, but the feeling disappears when he hears Howon’s voice return his call.  
  
“Sungjong-ah? I’m leaving right now, we’ll be back in a few --”  
  
Sungjong panics at that. Nonono hyung please stay, I want you here, please open the door, and Sungjong realises that he’s saying these things out loud, panting and tugging at the door handle uselessly.  
  
“We’ll be back in a few hours alright?” Howon splutters around his words. He sounds like he’s debating if he should unlock the door, Sungjong can smell him. He can smell how hot and bothered Howon was getting, and with that thought, he moans as loud as he possibly can.  
  
“Why don’t you join me over here,” he asks in his sweetest voice.  
  
A pause. Then, “I can’t, Sungjong-ah.” Howon’s voice breaks at the last word, and then the door closes.  
  
Sungjong lets out a long whine when Howon’s smell grows fainter, and he flops back onto the bed. He presses three fingers into his entrance, and three more into his mouth, and pretends that his Howon-hyung is here with him.  
  
It helps to soothe the sting of rejection.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong wakes to the sound of the door opening.  
  
He tenses, waiting for one of his hyungs to walk in, but after what feels like a long while, Sungjong finally slips out of bed to put his clothes back on.  
  
The rasp of the fabric against the tender skin of his cock, and something between a whine and a gasp slips out of Sungjong’s mouth. The hand cream he used to lube himself dribbles out along his inner thighs and collects against the fabric and the realisation hits him like a bus. He’s not a Beta, he’s an Omega and he’s so,  _so_  furious for not expecting this he wants to scream.  _It’s not fair_ , his mind whispers,  _it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not._  
  
“Sungjong-ah?”  
  
Sungjong jumps to button his pants quickly, before turning to face the door.  
  
“Yeah, hyung?”  
  
Howon only pokes his head into the room, like he’s casually checking up on Sungjong after hearing him pleasure himself from the other side of the door. Not to mention the least subtle invitation to stick his dick in Sungjong’s ass.  
  
Sungjong is both aroused and mortified at that thought.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Howon gazes at him, his mouth pulled down, and Sungjong thinks Howon might have been considering him, checking if his heat is really over, checking if Sungjong still intends to jump him.  
  
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that earlier,” and here Sungjong crosses his arms over his bare chest, uncomfortable with the keenness of his hyung’s gaze, “I didn’t know what I was doing.”  
  
“It’s okay, you weren’t yourself then.”  
  
“I really wasn’t,” Sungjong concedes.  
  
 _Wrong, wrong, wrong._  Sungjong knew what he was doing. He wanted Howon to mate him, and thinking about it now still sends jolts of pleasure up his spine. And it sickens him a little, at how susceptible he’s become after presenting.  
  
Howon clears his throat and he scratches the back of his neck.  
  
“It’s almost dinner time, Sungjong-ah, you should clean up and join us--”  
  
“Listen, um,” Sungjong bites his lower lip. “Thanks for taking the other hyungs out, and I’m sorry about coming onto you. Are we still good?” At this point, Sungjong’s just blurting out whatever comes to mind to keep the flagging conversation going.  
  
“Why wouldn’t we be?”  
  
Howon smiles at him, his eyes warm, and Sungjong almost goes to him just then.  
  
But it’s different now.  
  
“Thank Myungsoo and Sungyeol too, I couldn’t have gotten everyone out of the door by myself,” Howon says softly.  
  
They lapse into a comfortable silence, just staring at each other for several seconds, and Sungjong thinks about how nice this feels.  
  
Sungjong feels his body jerk as he violently derails his thoughts, and the moment is over. Howon jumps a little too, as if coming out from a daydream.  
  
“I’ll, uh,” he gestures uselessly at Sungjong’s bed, “I’ll leave you to it then.”  
  
The door closes again.  
  
-  
  
After stripping his sheets, Sungjong opens the door to almost knock against Sunggyu, and his hyung steadies him with an arm around his waist. Sungjong shakes him off, and Sunggyu steps back almost reluctantly.  
  
"Are you feeling alright, Sungjong-ah?" Sunggyu doesn't meet his eyes; his gaze lingers on Sungjong's mouth and sweat-soaked neck, and almost as if he couldn't help himself, he reaches out to stroke Sungjong's wrist.  
  
"I'm okay," Sungjong says as he pushes the hand away almost violently, and his hyung startles, as if out of a trance. A flush settles on his neck as he scratches his neck, embarrassed.  
  
"Right, right, sorry." And with one last glance at Sungjong, Sunggyu turns and leaves for his room, and the lock turns firmly into place.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong's at the kitchen, washing the dishes when he realises that his position is extremely vulnerable. His back is facing the living room where most of the band are watching television, and the sound of running water is loud enough to drown out the sound of socks on the wooden floor.  
  
After his first heat, however, he can acutely smell his hyungs now, and right now the person approaching him has a sweet and unobtrusive smell; a fellow Omega.  
  
"Hey," Myungsoo greets as he wraps his arms around Sungjong's waist.  
  
Sungjong rolls his eyes. Apparently, being bonded hasn't curbed Myungsoo of his clingy tendencies.  
  
"Yah, if you have the time to come bother me, why don't you help me with these?"  
  
Myungsoo retracts his hands, but his chin still stays perched on Sungjong's shoulder.  
  
Okay, washing the dishes might be his job, but if he could drag someone down with him, the job is ten times more bearable for him.  
  
Myungsoo relents with a heavy sigh. He picks up a dish and asks, his voice kept deliberately neutral. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes," Sungjong grits out. All six of his hyungs had asked him that exact question throughout the day.  
  
"You should get a partner soon. So that your scent is, well, less distracting." Myungsoo waves a soapy hand towards the living room.  
  
"I don't see why I can't just take suppressants until I'm ready."  
  
"Yeah, and risk exposing yourself to the entire country? Nothing will come out of waiting. You won't even get pregna--"  
  
"Yes, but why can’t I wait?"  
  
"Because you’re being distracting on purpose.”  
  
"So I’ll take suppressants."  
  
Myungsoo’s hand stills for a beat on his plate. Then he just shakes his head.  
  
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop talking about it.”  
  
-  
  
On the rare occasion that Howon is actually in their room -- he hasn’t been for a long time, ever since Sungjong presented -- Sungjong makes a beeline for him.  
  
“Howon-hyung?”  
  
“H-hi, Sungjong-ah.” Howon consciously scoots away from him in his bunk.  
  
Sungjong’s heart falls, just a little. Before this, he could climb in with Howon and his hyung will just stretch an arm out for Sungjong to rest his head against and shuffles aside on the bed so they can talk face-to-face in the darkness.  
  
Now, it’s like he’s missing a life he can never claim back.  
  
Sungjong bulldozes through anyway.  
  
“Everything okay?”  
  
“It won’t happen again," Howon says, staring down at his bed sheets resolutely.  
  
“You can’t promise that."  
  
“I went to ask around, to see how we can work things out if you don’t want to bond during your first few heats. Don’t worry." Howon puts his hands up when Sungjong's eyes widen. "I didn’t say it was you. Gwangsuk told me what his sister did, when she presented. She rented a flat at the outskirts of Seoul, and stayed there once each year, until she was ready.”  
  
“Is she bonded now?”  
  
“Not yet, and she’s turning twenty-nine.”  
  
Sungjong looks up from his hands to meet Howon’s gaze.  
  
Then, very carefully, he places one hand on top of Howon’s. Howon almost jerks away, but Sungjong wants to tell him,  _show him_ , that nothing has to change.  
  
"Thank you, hyung."  
  
Howon returns Sungjong's smile.  
  
"Glad I could help."  
  
And then Howon stands up and walks out of the room, his book lying opened on his bedspread.  
  
-  
  
At some point, word of his status has reached the entire company. Jiae comes up to him one day, worry clouding her eyes.  
  
“Sungjong-ah,” she greets and he responds in kind.  
  
He’s really glad to see her. She looks good, her cheeks full and eyes bright, a spring in every step. She leans over, smiling.  
  
“Let’s go somewhere else, it’s too crowded here.”  
  
She pulls him to the roof and they lean against the railing, watching the bustle of the street below. Sungjong starts fidgeting. Even with the murmur of traffic, he’s itching to say something. Silences are not usually comfortable.  
  
Jiae beats him to it, however.  
  
“Sungjong-ah, you’re not  _claimed_  yet, are you?”  
  
Sungjong feels himself stiffen at the word.  
  
Jiae’s eyes widen.  
  
“Ah, was that a sore point?”  
  
“Yeah, it kind of is.”  
  
She hesitates, and Sungjong can almost hear the cogs in her brain turning. He braces himself for the same question Myungsoo, and countless others, had asked him.  
  
“Do you like anyone now, Sungjong-ah?”  
  
“W-what?” That wasn’t the question he’d expected.  
  
“You heard me,” Jiae smiles wryly, and jabs him playfully in the shoulder.  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
She bobs her head, eyes hopeful.  
  
“Of course! Does that mean you have someone in mind? Tell me!” Jiae widens her eyes and clutches her hands together. Is that her lip wobbling?  
  
Sungjong’s resolve crumbles in an instant. “It’s Howon-hyung, okay!”  
  
“Ohmig--” she starts to squeal.  
  
“Liking someone doesn’t mean you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with them,” Sungjong cuts in.  
  
“I know that. Don’t admonish me, we’re the same age,” she pouts, and then flicks a finger against his forehead as punishment.  
  
“Yah, don’t flick me, I’m your sunbae!”  
  
“Whatever,  _chingu_.” Another flick.  
  
-  
  
After Jiae skips off for vocal training, Sungjong checks his forehead in the bathroom mirror.  
  
 _She has it easy as a Beta_ , he muses as he presses a thumb against a red blotch.  _Bet she doesn’t get harrassed about finding a man to bed her. Bet she doesn’t get treated like her identity wasn’t a public nuisance._  
  
 _It’s still red_ , he texts her,  _explain this to my fans, why don’t you._  
  
 _Tell them Jiae sends her love to her favourite sunbae,_  her reply reads.  
  
Sungjong snorts in amusement and scrolls past his messages. One is from his mother, sent yesterday, and just looking at her name just makes Sungjong want to crumble. He has to explain everything to her, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.  
  
-  
  
His mother is equally surprised, since Sungjong’s family had produced Betas for several generations.  
  
“Well, it’s not totally surprising, Jong-ah,” she explains calmly over the phone. “Betas have a higher chance of producing Betas, but Omegas are only half as likely to be born from a Beta parentage. Our family has only produced Betas for decades, it’s an anomaly if we  _didn’t_  have an Omega by now.  
  
“Sungjong-ah...” Here her voice gives way to worry. “Are you okay? Have you found anyone...suitable yet?”  
  
Sungjong sighs. “Not yet. I’m fine,  _umma_. I just need a little time.”  
  
“Okay, take care of yourself.”  
  
“I will, umma. Don’t worry too much about me--”  
  
“How do you expect me to do that,” his mother interrupts, “Sungjong-ah, I haven’t seen Jihyun since she gave birth to her second child; how do you expect me not to worry?”  
  
“I’m not going to give birth,  _umma_ ,” Sungjong says bluntly. “How’s  _appa_?”  
  
-  
  
Things are different as an Omega.  
  
At broadcasting stations, the men regard him strangely. Sometimes they barge into their dressing room for the silliest reasons, their eyes sweeping across the room to land on Sungjong. Their gazes are usually heavy with intent and it makes Sungjong squirm in his seat.  
  
This seems to please them even more, however. Quite a few have boldly closed the door behind them and step towards Sungjong, and Sunggyu has to take them out of the room with a question about the line-up or the list of female celebrities present.  
  
Other times, when Sungjong passes them on the film set, they recoil in disgust and sneer  _faggot_  under their breaths.  
  
Sungjong grits his teeth and bows to them anyway.  
  
-  
  
Months of promotions and events and one concert later, seven of them are eating dinner in exhausted silence when he blurts out the thing that’s been on the forefront of his mind all day.  
  
“I rented an apartment.”  
  
“That’s nice, Sungjong,” Sungyeol says, not looking up from his bowl, and Sunggyu snorts a little into his soup and chokes. Dongwoo slaps him on the back a little harder than necessary.  
  
Sunggyu shoves him, and Dongwoo is sent sprawling into Sungjong’s lap, limbs flailing and mouth spraying rice everywhere as he laughs and suddenly Sungjong just wants to cry from relief.  
  
At least in the dorm, things are how it used to be.  
  
-  
  
“You rented an apartment.”  
  
Sungjong looks up from the television to see Sunggyu standing next to it, hair wet and hands folded across his chest.  
  
“And?”  
  
“You’re really serious, aren’t you.”  
  
Sungjong tenses. “Why wouldn’t I be, hyung?”  
  
Sunggyu sighs and joins him on the couch.  
  
“I don’t pretend to understand you. It’s been like this for years and years, and people don’t question what has to be done.  
  
“But I know that I’ll support you, alright.” Sunggyu stops, awkward, and Sungjong breathes out a whistling gust of air. He feels his smile spread across his face, and the muscles on his face protest but he doesn’t care.  
  
“I mean,” Sunggyu chuckles at his expression. “I’ve been needling you to find someone and get your yearly heats out of the way for months, and you just sat there to wait for me to finish every time.  
  
“You’re quite something, Lee Sungjong.”  
  
“So are you, hyung,” Sungjong says firmly, “so are you.”  
  
-  
  
Sungjong goes back to his room to find Howon standing in the corner, conversing in low tones on the phone. Whoever he’s talking to -- and Sungjong thinks he has a pretty good idea who -- makes Howon’s frame almost cave in on itself, like he is suddenly reminded of how heavy they are with the few words his father is sure to dispense as  _advice_.  
  
It’s a private conversation, but when Howon sees him at the door, as if sensing his hesitation, he nods a little, and Sungjong steps in.  
  
Sungjong goes about his business, rustling around his bed for his phone. He listens carefully for movement behind him, but he’s also waiting for a sign.  
  
“Everything okay, hyung?” Sungjong draws away from his bed and looks up. Howon plays with his phone, expression stony.  
  
“Not really, no.” His hair has fallen into his eyes, but Sungjong can feel Howon’s gaze on him. When he shifts, Sungjong catches a glimpse of them. They’re not really looking at him, but through him, like the eyes of a man who handed his heart over to someone, years and years ago. And he’s still waiting for that someone to give it back.  
  
The way Howon reaches for him shatters Sungjong.  
  
No matter what, he thinks as he rocks them both gently from side to side, Howon is only two years older, but all Sungjong can do for him is only this. Sungjong can only sweep up the mess when people tear his hyungs apart viciously. But despite all this, neither of them can ask for time to sort themselves out. The show has to go on. Neither does Howon want it to stop.  
  
The memory of holding Howon like this is so familiar that Sungjong feels a shudder run through his body. He whispers words against Howon’s ear, and sometimes they make no sense. Sungjong doesn’t want them to. Things that make too much sense have already broken his hyung. He tightens his arms around Howon’s body, and Howon’s hands return the gesture.  
  
“It’ll be alright,” Sungjong whispers. He knows it isn’t true, but right now, the truth isn’t what Howon needs.  
  
Even for now, even for a little while, Sungjong hopes that he is what Howon needs. Sungjong hopes that he is enough.  
  
-  
  
They’re in the car again. It seems to Sungjong as if they’ll spend half of their lives inside this machine, carted to and fro from every corner of Seoul and then some. Things become routine. Sunggyu dozes and texts Jiae -- as if he isn’t obvious enough -- at the front, and if Sungjong turns around he knows he’ll find Myungsoo and Sungyeol curled around each other. Usually his other hyungs fight not to sit next to the pile of domestic mush going on in the backseat. Today, Woohyun is huddled miserably against the window, while next to him, Sungyeol and Myungsoo are going at it.  
  
But that isn’t the point.  
  
When they draw apart, seeing the way Myungsoo looks at Sungyeol, the way he holds Sungyeol’s jaw with his thumb, it’s enough to make Sungjong’s heart ache with the beauty of this shared moment. This moment is not for him, but yet it is one he wants to remember. Sungjong finds it hard to look away, and when he finally does, it’s when the dull roar in his mind quiets to a hum, no louder than the engine of the car.  
  
Sungjong turns back around, Howon’s hand still clasped in his, and sleep finds him easily.  
  
-  
  
The precious few hours before dawn move like molasses for Sungjong. The summer heat slows the beats of their songs and dances. Outside their dorm, it might possibly be more than thirty degrees, but they have the AC on full-blast and huddle under thick blankets.  
  
“Sungjong-ah.” Howon says his name in a sigh, the air gusting against Sungjong’s ear, and Sungjong makes a small sound to show that he’s listening. “I don’t think I’ve told anyone else about my family. It’s strange because I’ve known you for such a short time--”  
  
“We’ve known each other for five years, hyung,” Sungjong says, teasing.  
  
“And been friends for even less,” Howon muses.  
  
The palm strokes lazily against his hip, and it doesn’t occur to Sungjong until now that Howon’s hand has been there since they laid down together. Sungjong’s skin is warm there, warm from the body pressed against his and the hot palm just stroking.  
  
“But we’re not exactly friends, are we, hyung?”  
  
Sungjong can feel the moment Howon’s body stiffens, his breath drawn tight in his lungs. The hand on Sungjong’s hip stills.  
  
“No,” he exhales, “we’re not.”  
  
Sungjong listens, waits for Howon to say something. His heartbeat is thundering loud in his ribcage: one beat, two and--  
  
“I really, really like you,” Howon says hoarsely.  
  
Sungjong lets himself go.  
  
“I like you a lot too,” he sighs against Howon’s cheek.  
  
Outside of their window, the soft rumble of early-morning traffic becomes a muffled roar.  
  
-  
  
Howon asks Sungjong out for movies again, although he’s wise enough to choose blockbusters now. They watch movies in the dead of the night, after thoroughly exhausting practices that Sungjong sometimes fall asleep in the middle of the movie. They sit in the cinema at the last row of seats with their caps and face masks and hands never touching, but Howon does this thing where he turns to Sungjong after an especially touching or pivotal scene. Sungjong watches the colours flicker against Howon’s cheek as the movie on the screen quiets and comes to a lull, gearing up for the explosive climax, and he feels contentment settling into his bones.  
  
-  
  
Howon asks Sungjong out for movies, for food, and only when he’s pushing a shopping cart in the grocery store with Howon picking out vegetables and kimchi does Sungjong realise how domestic they’ve become.  _Like a real couple._  
  
“Hey.” Howon slips an arm around Sungjong’s waist and Sungjong is once again surprised at how normal this is for them now. “Did Woohyun say he wanted eggs?”  
  
Sungjong sighs and relaxes against Howon’s hold.  
  
“Just buy it, I’m craving some omelettes.”  
  
“I’m not making them for you.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Sungjong sniffs. “I wouldn’t want to eat burnt food.”  
  
“Who’s the one who burnt half the steaks last week, Sungjong-ah?” Howon teases, and then blows a puff of air into Sungjong’s ear.  
  
“You’re so childish, hyung,” Sungjong complains and puts the eggs back.  
  
Howon turns back and sticks his tongue out.  
  
“Case in point,” Sungjong calls over Howon’s loud “I can’t hear you!” as he turns into the snacks aisle.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong, for once, makes dinner with Woohyun and Howon. His mind is almost at peace as he washes and chops vegetables. He doesn’t mind this, what he has with Howon, he thinks as his arm brushes Howon’s at the sink. He’s reminded of Jihyun’s resigned expression that afternoon in the hospital and he swears he won’t let himself be bonded. But a relationship is different.  
  
 _It’s not a bond if it’s not during your heat,_  Jihyun’s text had read.  
  
He still gets shivers when he thinks about how Howon kissed him, slow and exploratory, and went to sleep in the same bed. When he woke up next to Howon that morning, gazing down at Howon blearily rubbing at his face, Sungjong might have already made up his mind. But like the last thought before he falls asleep and the first thought he has when he wakes up, it had been forgotten until now, in the kitchen, as he watches the way Howon bends his head as he washes the rice.  
  
Sungjong is sure about a lot of things in his life, and this is one of them. He would like to try.  
  
-  
  
Cooking makes Woohyun really chatty. So far, he’s told Sungjong about his father’s promotion, his brother’s impeccable thesis in college and recounted several stories about his girlfriend Kyungri.  
  
"--I remember when we first tried to make out she slapped my hand away when I put it anywhere below her waist,” Woohyun says to Sungjong as they stand side-by-side against the stove, watching the pot of kimchi stew boil.  
  
"You sound like a douchebag, hyung," Sungjong says blandly, and his insides curl in horror when he realises that’s what Howon might have said. Woohyun doesn’t notice, too busy trying to defend himself against Sungjong’s accusation.  
  
"I mean her thighs!" Woohyun squawks. "She was so  _cute_  when she was into it and I wanted to make her feel good, you know. Thighs are sensitive." Woohyun wriggles his eyebrows for emphasis and Sungjong rolls his eyes. "She got so mad at me." Woohyun laughs at the memory. "Her group members sent some very angry texts."  
  
"Serves you right, Woohyun-hyung."  
  
Woohyun hums in agreement. "I think I'm going to ask her if she wants to bond."  
  
"Isn't that too fast?" Sungjong prickles at the direction their conversation has taken. He’s glad that Howon wandered off into the living room after he’d set the rice to cook.  
  
"It’s been three years, Sungjong-ah. I guess I just to show her that I’m serious about this. I want this to last.” Woohyun shrugs. “I’d expect her to say no anyway. She’s waiting for the right time, so the right thing to do is to wait with her, right?” He sprinkles salt into the pot.  
  
Sungjong doesn’t know what to say. It might be a little strange to pat Woohyun on the back, as much as he thinks of Woohyun as a friend. But Woohyun doesn’t seem to mind the lack of response; he just returns to stirring his stew.  
  
-  
  
Sungjong watches Howon all through dinner. He watches the way his lips puff from the heat of the spicy soup and how his cheeks flush from the steam and thinks,  _how delectable._  
  
Sungjong enters their shared room to see Howon’s neck bend as he searches for something on his bed, and he just can’t resist the skin of Howon’s nape.  
  
He comes up behind him, not minding the surprised sound Howon makes, and presses a kiss against the back of his neck. _One kiss_ , he promises himself, and then Howon’s scent completely surrounds him and it makes Sungjong want a taste so badly his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lap at the skin and--  
  
Howon whirls around, his expression surprised and lips pursed and Sungjong wants to kiss the frown off of his face. So he leans in and does just that. He presses his lips to Howon’s, tongue licking at the seam and then into Howon’s mouth when his lips fall open with a groan.  
  
Howon’s arms come around Sungjong’s waist in an almost crushing grip as Howon holds him, their chests pressed together and somehow Sungjong ends up straddling Howon on the bed with his ass pressed against Howon’s erection and his shirt halfway off and pants on the floor as Howon laves at the soft peaks on his chest.  
  
Howon’s mouth is hot on his nipple and he swirls his tongue around and scrapes his teeth against the nub, and with each bite and suck Sungjong loses himself even more. Small, sobbing gasps leave his mouth and Sungjong hardly cares about how helpless he looks right now if it means Howon can continue sucking hickeys on his chest.  
  
“God,” Howon moans against Sungjong’s ear after one especially delicious suck on Sungjong’s shoulder. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”  
  
“M-me too,” Sungjong barely manages to stutter before Howon grinds his hard cock against his ass and Sungjong cries out, mouth open and throat rippling with pleasure. Howon thrusts up again and for a moment his cock catches at the space between Sungjong’s inner thighs and he moans into Sungjong’s mouth, licks into him, takes his face into one hand, holds him there as he tongue-fucks him until Sungjong can barely move on top of him. Howon’s hand palming the flesh of his ass feels like a brand, searing into his skin with the heat, and Sungjong thinks vaguely,  _yes, brand me, claim me as yours_  and grips Howon’s hair so tight Howon gasps a little in pain. One more rock of Howon’s hips and his finger slips down from one ass cheek to catch against the rim of Sungjong’s hole and Sungjong has to muffle his cry against Howon’s shoulder. His hole is throbbing now, he can feel the rim squeezing against the finger, sucking it in and Sungjong whines and pushes against it.  
  
“Wait,” Howon mumbles against his ear, and pulls Sungjong down between his legs, and Sungjong whines because his body jostles with the movement and the finger bumps against his hole. He rubs against Howon’s front, his cock leaving trails of precome all over the crotch of Howon’s sleep pants.  
  
“Take yours off too,” he mumbles against Howon’s ear and they scramble up to tug off Howon’s clothes and Sungjong’s mouth  _waters_  at the sight of Howon’s erect cock. It bobs, heavy with arousal as Howon crawls on top of Sungjong and brings their dicks together in a slow slide. He can’t wait to have it inside him, all hot and heavy and Howon will fuck him so hard-- Sungjong bares his nape for Howon to mouth and suck and  _claim_ \--  _yours, I’m yours_ \--  
  
“Oh,  _oh_ ,” he moans when Howon moves to take both their erections together and Sungjong doesn’t know where to move, with Howon’s finger still circling his rim and his hand tugging on his cock. Howon must have mistaken his desperate whine for discomfort, because he removes his finger from Sungjong’s ass and glances at him uncertainly.  
  
“Like it?”  
  
“Yeah, keep going,” Sungjong gasps, winding his arms around Howon’s shoulders. He sucks on Howon’s neck, mouth, anywhere he can reach between pants and moans. Then Howon twists his hand in a way that makes Sungjong’s cock  _throb_ with want and his hole drip with slick, so much so he can feel it trickling down his inner thigh.  
  
“Howon, Howon,” he mutters against the shell of his ear, “I want, I--” He takes Howon’s hand away from their cocks to press the tips of the fingers against his perineum and Howon groans into his ear, a beautiful, heady sound and Sungjong pushes two fingers in and--  
  
“Fuck, you’re--” Howon’s eyes are hooded with lust, and Sungjong is arrested by his gaze.  _Yes,_  he wants to say,  _I’m so wet for you, can’t you see?_  and he must have done so out loud because Howon falls into him for a sweet, filthy kiss, like he can’t help himself.  
  
“All for me,” Howon murmurs, and flips them around so he’s lying above Sungjong, holding Sungjong’s thighs up and open with both hands, the pad of his thumbs stroking and petting the skin. Sungjong is almost bent into half, but he wants Howon to touch him, put his fingers and cock into his hole to fill him up, and he reaches to pry Howon’s hand away from his thigh. _Touch me, touch me_  please  _I want you_ , Sungjong thinks and swivels his hips upwards, his cock still hard and flushed against his belly. His entire body vibrates with need. And then finally,  _finally_ , Howon reaches between his legs to press two fingers in.  
  
The sensation of being filled sends a shudder down Sungjong’s entire body, his frame wracked with the pleasure as Howon twists his fingers. Sungjong moans into Howon’s mouth and grinds down so deep he can feel the fingers brush a spot inside that makes his mouth fall open for Howon to kiss and tongue.  
  
“Again, again.” Sungjong wiggles his ass and moves his hips with little thrusts to find that spot once more, and almost wails when he can’t find it.  
  
“Sungjong-ah, let me,” Howon says against his mouth, and pulls his fingers out with a loud squelching sound. He lines his cock against Sungjong’s entrance, face flushed red and mouth falling open and he’s hesitating, waiting for Sungjong to tell him to go ahead.  
  
“I’m fine, I’m okay, just do it,” Sungjong says, and Howon pushes in.  
  
Sungjong winces at the initial intrusion. Howon’s cock is thick and hot and he wiggles a little, trying to adjust. He can feel his muscles contracting, but he takes a deep breath and tries to hold still. Above him, Howon has his eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to push in as slowly as he can, and Sungjong can’t help but feel a stab of deep affection for him.  
  
“Relax, Sungjong, deep breaths. You’re taking it so well for me,” Howon whispers to him, kissing his eyelids and mouth and nape. “So good for me.” Sungjong licks into Howon’s mouth as Howon settles inside, distracting himself from the discomfort.  
  
“So beautiful.” Howon mouths at the back of his ear. “So lovely. Baby, just wait a little while more, okay?” he soothes, and Sungjong turns his head to follow Howon’s mouth, ass moving minutely to accommodate.  
  
“I’m ready,” Sungjong says between nips of Howon’s lips.  
  
“I’m going to move now.” Howon presses one last kiss to Sungjong’s mouth before he draws up, hiking one of Sungjong’s thighs over his shoulder, and  _thrusts_.  
  
“Howon,” Sungjong gasps, and Howon thumbs his mouth. “Hyung, Howon-hyung,” he whines high in his throat as Howon’s cock brushes that place again that makes his thighs quake. He wraps one hand around his cock and strokes it roughly and quickly. The way Howon just gazes at him, eyes dark with desire and a thrill shoots down Sungjong’s back.  _He_  makes Howon so aroused,  _he_  has Howon’s mouth parted and gasping for breath as he pumps his hips against Sungjong’s ass and the thought makes his cock throb and ooze more precome. His belly is already wet with the sticky fluid, one thin line forming against his slit and his bellybutton.  
  
“Do you know how you look right now,” Howon murmurs against his ear, taking the earlobe between his teeth to suck as he thrusts, hard and deep and it hits that place inside him that makes Sungjong’s mouth fall open and he’s  _sobbing_  from the pleasure.  
  
He knows he’s babbling, but he can’t help it. He reaches up to grasp the back of Howon’s neck, pull him down to meet him in a kiss that’s more tongue than anything, and pushes himself down to meet Howon’s body. They both groan and Sungjong can feel how much more Howon’s cock is splitting him open. His body is jerking with each movement and Howon licks past his mouth to kiss his neck, and then leans back to kiss the inside of his knee without breaking eye contact.  
  
“I can just eat you up.” Howon punctuates each word with a harsh thrust that has Sungjong keening. He’s so close, so close and Howon picks up his pace, ramming into Sungjong’s body and Sungjong’s insides are on fire as with his prostate so stimulated.  
  
“Howon,” he gasps, mouth numb with pleasure, “I’m gonna--”  
  
“Come for me,” Howon groans, and Sungjong comes so quickly he yelps with the force of it, throat closing so his exhale is choked as he comes down from his high.  
  
“Sungjong-ah,” Howon moans above him, his hips stuttering in their rhythm, and Sungjong kisses and sucks at his collarbones until Howon comes inside Sungjong with gasp, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Sungjong thinks he looks amazing, mouth parted in pleasure and neck veins visible from the strain. He shudders a little at the hot come spurting into him. It feels like he’s owned, protected and  _loved_. Sungjong whimpers at the loss when Howon pulls out to lie next to him.  
  
“Alright?” Howon says, and Sungjong is so caught up in the pleasurable aftershocks of his orgasm that he can only nod.  
  
After he’s made sure his heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to jump out of his ribcage, he says, quietly turning to face Howon, “Never better.”  
  
But Howon is already asleep. Sungjong smiles and wipes a bead of sweat from Howon’s forehead, and dozes.  
  
-  
  
He wakes up to Howon’s incessant prodding and a whispered, “We need to get to practice.”  
  
Sungjong flings an arm out of the bed with a groan.  
  
“Sungjong-ah, Sungjong-ah,” Howon says into his ear, “we really have to go.”  
  
Sungjong moves to climb onto Howon’s lap so they’ll  _both_  get more sleep, but as he fumbles to do so, he nearly trips his way out of his bunk.  
  
“Hey, be careful,” Howon says, one hand on his waist.  
  
“Thanks,” Sungjong yawns.  
  
“Gross.” Howon wrinkles his nose. “Go brush your teeth, Jong-ah.”  
  
Sungjong leans over to let out the biggest puff of morning breath right over Howon’s face and races to the bathroom.  
  
Sunggyu is brushing his teeth half-asleep sitting on the toilet lid. “You were fucking loud last night,” he grumbles around a mouthful of toothpaste and scrubs a careless hand over his eyes.  
  
“Sorry, hyung.” Sungjong tries not to turn red.  _Were they really that noisy?_  
  
“Shut up and brush your teeth,” Sunggyu says after spitting toothpaste into the sink. “And don’t ask me for help if the other guys pummel your face later at practice. Myungsoo and Sungyeol aren’t even half as annoying, and they’re  _bonded_.”  
  
“Maybe I should remain unbonded and have annoyingly loud sex for the rest of my life,” Sungjong says thoughtfully.  
  
“Fuck you,” Sunggyu says through his face towel.  
  
“Too bad, hyung,” Sungjong snickers.  
  
-  
  
They postpone their really, really overdue conversation till the car ride. Sunggyu waggles his eyebrows at them from the front seat. Sungjong rolls his eyes back at him.  _Like you haven’t had sex, hyung._  
  
It’s 7AM and soon enough, five out of seven Infinite members are knocked out cold, mouths gaping open unattractively and heads jerking to the motions of the car.  _How cute,_  Sungjong thinks dryly, though the drool on the side of Sungyeol’s face really isn’t.  
  
Howon makes sure that the manager has his eyes on the road and not on the back seat before turning to Sungjong.  
  
“So,” he begins awkwardly.  
  
“It was good,” Sungjong says, and laughs when Howon hides his face behind his hands.  
  
“I liked it, too,” Howon mumbles.  
  
“Hyung?” Sungjong takes Howon’s hands in his, and laughs a little at how red his face is. “Why are you like this?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Howon straightens and rubs a hand across his cheeks, a small smile on his face. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”  
  
“Actually, we should get some lube next time. My ass is a little sore.”  
  
Howon’s hands are back in front of his face.  
  
Sungjong laughs and tries to pry Howon’s hands away, and they tussle until Sungyeol wakes up from the noise and glares at them. The glare promises punishment and death later in the form of a dog pile with Sungjong at the bottom.  
  
“Sorry,” Howon says, and that placates Sungyeol enough for him to turn back around.  
  
“We’re almost at the broadcasting station,” the manager calls from the front seat. “I suggest you wipe the spit off your faces and get ready for the fans.”  
  
Sungjong untangles his fingers from Howon’s and pats down errant strands of hair.  
  
The car comes to a stop and Sungjong hears the screams before he even steps out. He pulls on his sunglasses, adjusts the scarf around his neck, and hurries out to the entrance of CJ E&M Center Studio.  
  
The first fallen leaves of autumn crunch beneath his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Gwangsuk is the real name of FeelDog, who was listed as Hoya’s best friend in his 'Thanks To' on INFINITE's 1st full length album.


End file.
